


If You Have to Go, I Will Go With You.

by aristxsachaixn



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, This is so depressing, gods I'm so sorry, read this and come cry with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 03:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15524937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristxsachaixn/pseuds/aristxsachaixn
Summary: He is a lion, a beast, something primal and hungry, and in this moment, he is a god. His honeyed skin is stained red, his eyes burn with the intensity of war.This is what he is born for,I think. He is fast and raging andbeautiful.





	If You Have to Go, I Will Go With You.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen guys this is so short but I have FEELINGS and I needed to write this before spontaneous combustion occurred

He’s like honey, sharp and sweet and the perfect shade of golden-brown. He’s like ice, swift and calculating, he knows exactly how to break me apart. He’s like the sun, he burns and glows and I fear that I should look away, for his beauty is too great. He grips my hips, so tight that it is pushing the boundary between pleasure and pain, but I do not care. His lips are like rose petals, soft and gentle against my pulse. He bites, he licks, he bruises my skin, the blood seeping from my veins painting my skin in rich purple hues. His hands are ever moving, traveling over the planes of my body, around the sharp point of my bones. His hands touch and touch and touch. His tongue is a flame, my skin heating and charring wherever it goes. Down my neck, into the dip of my collarbones, down, down, down, until I am no longer flesh but molten earth, churning and bubbling at the dawn of time, I am something holy. 

He is a lion, a beast, something primal and hungry, and in this moment, he is a god. His honeyed skin is stained red, his eyes burn with the intensity of war. He slices the air with a spear, driving the enemy back and back and back, he flourishes.  _ This is what he is born for,  _ I think. He is fast and raging and  _ beautiful, _ and I lose myself completely. I am standing on a battlefield, surrounded by enemies, yet none can come close. He strikes the Trojans down, one by one, he is an elite force, he is a hurricane, he is  _ Aristos Achaion.  _

He is glass, in this moment. He cracks with each breath, life in his lungs that I no longer possess. His tears come as fast and as strong as rain, he creates an ocean, the waters strong with the riptide of his grief. He is cradling my body in his arms, lost to the world around him. He places a kiss to my cold lips and lays his head on my chest. “Patroclus,” he says.  _ Pa-tro-clus.  _ “I am sorry -” a sob bubbles up from his chest. “I could not protect you.” He is guilty, he is broken, he is lost, and I long to touch him, to comfort him, to promise him that I am here, but I cannot. I cannot, and my grief weighs heavy on my shoulders, the grief of knowing I have left him behind, I have left my Achilles behind. My Achilles.  _ My  _ Achilles. 

_ Perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this insanely short piece of angst! Comments, critiques, and kudos would be much appreciated! :D My tumblr is aristxsachaixn, come say hi!


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